A Fight to Remember

Falling Apart

A/N: Oh man... thanks everyone for your support! Tying up a lot of loose ends, connecting a lot of dots. You'll see.

This is a difficult read. I'm sorry. You'll need tissues.

Enjoy!

January 2038, Seattle Ellis

"I gotta get to work," Zola said, shrugging her coat on. "I've been trying to get Mom to take a bath... but," she shook her head. "Maybe she'll listen to you..."

I nodded, "I'll try," I said.

Zola picked up her bag, and I realized how tired she looked. She'd been taking the brunt of the work caring for Mom, all the while doing her own incredibly impossible job. I felt bad because while I had been working too, I wasn't as absorbed in Mom's care as she was.

I would be so relieved when Bailey was finally here. We'd been talking a little bit about what to do next, our next steps, as mom had been going downhill for a while now, and the medication she was on didn't appear to be working.

Were we going to put her in a home?

I didn't know.

All I knew was that we needed help.

There was crash and a startled yelp from upstairs. Zola stopped at the door, alarmed.

"It's fine," I said, "Go, or you'll be late."

My stubborn sister hesitated.

"Go," I insisted. I waved her away while I marched up the stairs, two at a time. "Mom?" I called, peering into the rooms down the hall.

"Who's stuff is this?" she growled from Bailey's room. I quickly stepped inside to see what was going on. The movers had just come with Bailey's stuff, and Zola and I had spent an hour or so stacking boxes, setting up the bed, and unpacking some of it for him, as he had a huge thirty-six hour shift at the hospital and would be beat by the time he got home.

"It's Bailey's," I said, noticing a broken alarm clock on the floor.

Mom pulled out some of his clothes and held them up. "Bailey's? Bailey doesn't live here... what are you talking about?"

"Your son, Bailey?" I asked.

"What?" she wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "I don't have a kid," and then she paused and looked down at herself, "Do I?"

"It's okay," I soothed. I learned a long time ago not to argue or try to tell her what the reality really was. Distraction seemed to work best, "don't worry about it. Do you want to help me downstairs?"

"But I- Who's stuff is this?"

"C'mon, I'll tell you when we get downstairs." I offered my hand.

"Okay. Someone should fix those things, they're crooked or something."

xxx

I gave mom the vacuum and let her do the floors while I dusted and organized.

"So who's stuff was that upstairs?" Mom asked again. "Who's moving in now? Alex? I thought Izzie didn't want him here."

"Oh," I shrugged, "I guess she changed her mind?"

"She should just fuck him and get it over with," mom muttered as she pushed the vaccuum over the rug.

"Mom!" I exclaimed. Mom had no filter anymore so stuff just came out.

"What?! It's obvious she has feelings for him... I mean she sees stuff in him that's good that I didn't even realize until I told him I wished my mother had cancer. He can be a good guy, if he'd just get over the stupid asshole part of himself, God."